


great scenes may be great, but i love your bloopers

by orphan_account



Series: edling week 2018 [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Edling Week 2018, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, i just realized i did two prompts at once GOD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 17:37:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14938842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: if every hospital has a dashing, black-haired nurse with a smile of spun sugar and the hands of an angel, ed might as well cut his other arm offor maybe that's just the morphine talking(edling week day one-modern/hospital au)





	great scenes may be great, but i love your bloopers

**Author's Note:**

> i've only been inside a hospital once. i was 7 and under the effect of several painkillers at once. 
> 
> i've never seen grey's anatomy either. help

Ling really wishes the half-asleep teen in the intensive care ward would stop flirting with him, especially since he’s high off of at least 3 different anesthetics and is currently missing an arm.

 

Normally, Ling would be fine with the occasional chat or two, maybe even an exchange of numbers a few weeks after the patient has been discharged for some coffee and a quick check-up. Lan Fan was normally his regular, and he’d check on her physical therapy improvements as well as her mental health and how she was dealing with the loss of limb. She’d taken time off from her job as an assisting surgeon to get used to her prosthetic arm, leaving Ling in her grandfather’s hospital as a lowly nurse. He’s starting to wonder if she graduated med school early _just_ so she could fuck with him during his internship.

 

Except for Lan Fan and some of the children, Ling’s never been one to be distracted by people, much less let them invade and renovate his every thought.

 

But the boy came rushed in through the hospital with at least half of a mine shafts’ scaffolding plunged through his stomach like a toothpick through a cocktail shrimp at a fancy wine gala. Blood was pouring in rivers from a mangled stump where his leg used to be, and Ling had taken to him almost instantly.

 

Ever since that day, Ling’s only seen him in snippets; the boy’s body eerily still as the doctors tried to maneuver around the pole in his sternum, watching as nurses hold him down by his forearms as his body thrashes about on the bed, his body rejecting whatever new medication they’ve put into his system. Ling is just a simple nursing assistant and only goes into the room when the boy is asleep. He places a cool cloth on his head, takes his vitals, and makes note of any changes. He only stirs from his medicated sleep once or twice, and Ling feels incredibly creepy as he brushes sun-gold hair out of his eyes and rubs over his feverish skin with a towel. He’s just a nurse, nothing more, no need to get so worked up over a single patient, _get your head in the game, Yao._

 

 _Elric, Edward_ says the clipboard hanging off the foot of his bed. Ling takes it off the hook and examines it, reading of Edward’s condition as he goes. He came in with a pole through his chest, which was the result of an explosion in a mining town up north. The two men that drove him there looked on in what someone could call guilty silence as a team of nurses scooped a slowly tiring Edward onto a stretcher. What business Edward had up north doesn’t concern Ling, but the sun-kissed glow of his skin tells a different story. He’d been stabilized shortly after the surgery, and doctors would come in routinely to either up the dose of morphine that was keeping him from experiencing near-deathlike pain or to check if he was still alive after the blood transfusions they’d been starting him on. Slowly, but surely, there was color coming back into his cheeks.

 

“Who’re you?”, a voice slurs and Ling drops the clipboard with a loud clatter against the hard tile flooring. He makes a sound of surprise and turns to see a groggy-eyed Edward Elric squinting at him.

 

“Oh, fuck!”, Ling swears. “You aren’t supposed to be awake yet.” He rushes over to the machine at Edward’s bedside and begins writing down everything he can. His blood pressure is normal if not a little high for someone who’s been practically dead to the world. Ling pulls the blanket off of Edward’s chest, ignoring the boy’s spluttering protests and the attempt to hide a bandaged stump. The bandages around his chest are only spattered with red, and none of the stitches under the dressing appear to be split or busted in the very least.

 

_He’s fine, holy fuck, he won’t die._

 

Ling sighs and slumps into the chair next to Edward’s bed, earning a quizzical stare from the boy in the bed.

 

“I asked ya a question.”, he says rather gruffly. “Who the hell are you?”

 

Ling drags a hand across his face. “Obviously not sober enough to be dealing with awake patients.”

 

Edward huffs out a noise somewhere on the spectrum of laughter. “Do you know what they did with my arm?”, he asks, completely serious.

 

“Your _what_?!” Gods, Ling really chose the wrong day not to bring in his coffee, even if it makes him look like a goblin by the end of his shift.

 

“My arm.”, Edward says again, wiggling the third(?) of an arm that he has left for further emphasis. “I know it got ripped off and all that shit, but you can’t just leave me arm-less.”

 

Ling recalls the mess of scrap metal that they had to take out of Edward’s now bandaged arm. “Did you not see the state that thing was in when they wheeled you through here? With the amount of broken metal from that thing, I’m surprised that they managed to get what’s left of your arm out of it.”

 

Edward groans and throws his head back against the pillows, spilling sunshine over the fabric of the pillowcases. “Great. I get stabbed, lose my arm, and wake up to some cute boy in my face.” He sneaks a peek at Ling, who smiles, then covers his face with his arm and groans louder.

 

Ling smiles at the “ _cute boy”_ comment and reaches over to press a small button on Edward’s bed. The boy’s golden eyes track the movement, seemingly locked on Ling’s hands.

 

“What’s that do?”, he says thickly. “Oh hell, are you trying to kill me?” His eyes follow Ling like they’re moving through molasses. “I get I’m annoying, but it’s too early for me to die, I have calculus homework to finish.”

 

Ling almost falls to the floor in stitches. Figures the morphine and confusion all stirred in one pot would make anyone off-kilter.

 

“It’s just morphine, it should help with any lingering pain in your arm and abdomen. I’m Ling Yao by the way, I’ll be your nurse for a while.” He stands, pats Edward on the thigh, and goes to pick up his clipboard. It isn’t unheard of, patients waking up earlier or later than the doctors would expect them to. But what is unheard of is someone undergoing at least two surgeries, one of which was severely life-threatening, and managed to wake up despite the drugs pumping in their system.

 

Boy, the doctors were going to have a _doozy_ with this one.

 

“Can I get your number?”, Edward sits up calls after him, _definitely_ under the effects of morphine and a sleep-addled brain.

 

Ling laughs for what has to be the third time that day. “Maybe when they take those stitches out of your stomach!”, he jokes. “Coffee sounds good?”

 

Edward nods so violently Ling thinks his head might pop off and start rolling on the floor like some horrifying bowling ball.

 

* * *

 

 

Whatever that cute nurse boy did to him, Ed doesn’t like it. His tongue feels thick and heavy in his mouth, and his voice scratches the back of his throat like sandpaper. There’s a glass of water on the side table, but Ed’s been so out of practice with having an arm and a third that he fears most of the water will end up spilled down his front. Well, maybe the cute boy would come back and help him, _oh this is the best plan he’s ever had._ Another nurse comes in later, checking his vitals like the cute boy did and testing his reflexes. She gives him a small pack of cookies for his blood sugar, which he devours within seconds, then leaves to go speak with a doctor.

 

Ed closes his eyes and tries to sleep. It’s the only thing he can do here, might as well takes advantage of it.

 

Darius and Heinkel come in just as she’s left, both carrying more flowers than the flower shops sell in their arms. They set the flowers down before coming to sit at his bedside, vases clinking against the wooden table as they do.

 

“Listen, kid..”, Darius starts. Ed turns over to look at him, and both he and Heinkel wince.

 

Edward frowns. “What, they didn’t shave my eyebrows off or anything, right?” He pats his face frantically to make sure it’s all still in place.

 

“It’s not that..”, Heinkel says, placing a comforting hand on Darius’ shoulder. “You’ve just gotten a little more beaten up than we remember. To sell it short, you look like shit, Elric.”

 

Ed groans, throwing his head back on the pillows. “Of fucking course I do. Now if I ever get out of this place, I gotta be the armless freak with the face of a kindergarten art project.” In the silence they give, his eyes trail down to his legs, seeing where the sheets dip on one side compared to the other.

 

“My leg’s gone, isn’t it.”, he says quietly. Darius inhales sharply, Heinkel puts his face in his hands and breathes heavily, The room is thick with tension, everyone in it trying not to let their emotions show on their faces. Edward leans back on his pillow and bites his lip until blood fills his mouth. Of course it’s gone, he’s so dumb. He had been closest to the explosion when those stupid fascist idiots had set it off, so of course he’d be given the worst deck of cards.

 

The worst thing is though, Ed can’t even feel where his leg was. They say you’re supposed to, amputees always feel an aching pain where their limbs were. Edward Elric cannot feel a thing.

 

Ed looks at Heinkel, his eyes desperately searching for something akin to salvation. “Wh-What are they gonna do to me? They can’t just kick me out of the academy, I’m their best student, they won’t just leave me.” Tears well up at the corners of his eyes, slipping down his face as they fall. Heinkel looks away, fisting the fabric of his pants in one hand.

 

“ _Please_ , Darius, they’re not kicking me out, are they?”, he croaks, turning to the other man.

 

The man in questions sighs heavily, dragging a hand down his face. “That’s...what we came here to tell ya, shrimp. We already sent the information to your foster family, along with compensation, but your recovery is gonna take too long for you to be able to catch up with military protocol. And with your missing leg and all, we just decided it would be healthier for you  if you just quit before you start recovery.” Edward is silent, save for the quiet breaths coming in through his nose and out his mouth. It’s a repetitive motion, both men note, so he’s trying to calm himself down.

 

“They don’t want me anymore?”, Ed says quietly, like a little kid who’s walked into something he shouldn’t have. “I’m getting kicked out.”

 

“Don’t think of it that way.”, Heinkel tries. “It’s more of a discharge than anything. They’ll transfer your credits over to the local high school, you’ll be in all honors classes. There just won’t be any money sent back with you per month.”

 

That’s what breaks Ed the most. He and Al were so close to being able to live by themselves, they’d saved every penny from their mother’s inheritance, sold what they could of their father’s before being taken into foster care, and now it’s all gone. Just a few more weeks and that last payment would’ve made it.

 

“Get out.”, Ed says, voice breaking on the last word. His hands ball up the fabric of the blanket over his leg. He won’t cry, he will not cry.

 

Darius stands up, a firm hand on Edward’s shoulder. “Listen, kid, we didn’t want this either. if it was up to us, you’d be back after physical therapy and a new leg. This is for your own goo-”

 

“GET OUT!”, Edward screams, smacking Darius’ hand off of his shoulder. “You’re not my fucking teachers anymore, right? So you can’t tell me what’s good for me and what isn’t. I decide that shit for myself now.”  Tears of anger stream down his face in rivers, face twisted to halt a running nose. “I never want to see you two ever again, and if I do, you’d be lucky to walk out with your fingers still attached to your hands!” Ed turns over in his bed and puts the pillow over his head, muffling his quiet sobs.

 

Heinkel moves forward, comforting words on the tip of his tongue, but Darius draws him back with a tug of his sleeve. The pair shuffles out in silence, turning the lights out as they go.

 

Once the door slides shut, Edward removes the pillow from his head, leans back against the pillows, and begins to cry harder. He’d had a future there, they’d said. He was prodigious, he had _the potential_ for a farm boy, he was going to do things.

 

And now he’s stuck, No-Arm Elric rising again. He wonders what the rumors around the bunker are gonna sound like this time, what they’ll do with his stuff. He wonders how Lieutenant Hughes is gonna feel about losing the closest thing he had to a son.

 

“I was _so_ close.”, he stutters out. The dark light of the hospital room comforts him in his sadness. Outside, Ling sets his folder into the box on the wall.

 

Physical therapy assignments can wait until tomorrow.

 

* * *

 

 

Edward wakes up to a heavy weight on his chest and a mouthful of hair. Sunlight streams in through the blinds, which makes his dehydrated body pound with pain. He must’ve groaned really loud, because the hair moves, and he's suddenly facing the haggard eyes of his baby brother.

 

“Al, hey.”, he groans. “Get off me, would ya?”

 

Alphonse sits up, rubs at his eyes, and immediately starts crying.

 

Ed blanches, not knowing how to deal with the blubbering mess of brother in front of him, so he does what older sibling do best, and tries to hug his brother with the arm he has. Al accepts the hug, his arms fitting over Ed’s shoulder and around his waist like two puzzle pieces, his cane clatters to the floor as both brothers try their best to comfort each other.

 

“I was so worried!”, he cries, tears wetting the fabric of his brother’s hospital gown. “We got the call yesterday, but Hariko wouldn’t let me out of the house to come to see you, and I had to call Winry to get her to drive me here!” He pulls away from Ed and looks him in the eyes, mouth in a quivering line. “The doctors told us everything.”

 

Ed’s eyes harden and look over to the stump of his left leg. “So you know that they academy booted me, then? Or that we got some measly compensation check that’ll most likely go to that woman and her stupid husband and we’ll be stuck in the fucking foster system for years because no one wants a cripple and his sick brother.”

 

“Don’t say that.”, Al says angrily. His tears disappear, replaced by a mask of iron and rage.“We may not be young enough to get adopted, but I’m not going to sit here and let you speak all that bad shit into existence.” He moves so that he’s sitting in the line of sight between Ed’s leg and his eyes. “We’ve gone through a lot of shit, but we’re only here because we did it together. I’m not 10 anymore, you don’t have to do this all by yourself, Ed.”

 

“You’re right, like always.” Ed smiles. “I’d be dead without you, Al.” He drags his little brother in to ruffle his hair, both boys laughing happily.

 

Al moves to one of the chairs near the back of the room, pulling one of his physics textbooks from his bag to read. Ed reaches up to press the button for morphine, like Ling had shown him yesterday. The lingering pain in his legs subsides, as well as the harsh thumping in his sternum.

 

“So, are you adjusting well to the hospital? I heard you’ll be here for quite some time.”, Al says, flipping a page in his book. “With physical therapy and all that, you’ll be here for a month or so.”

 

Ed leans back in his bed, thumbing through a volume of alchemic text Alphonse had brought him. “I guess so. They’ll probably keep me until I’m well enough to get out of this damn bed. Then I gotta go bug Winry about making me a new arm, maybe even a leg.” He sighs, placing the book face down on his lap. “Shit, then I’ll come back, they’ll get me used to having a leg again, then I’ll go home. It’s a big old bullshit process.”

 

Alphonse looks up from his book. “I think Winry’s already started on your leg ever since we got the news. Granny’s been sending me progress pics of her all-nighters, so I want to believe it’s going well. They’ll probably have it done in a few days, but you’ll be in a wheelchair by then.”

 

“Wow, that gearhead’s already at it, huh? Makes me look like an idiot compared to how fast she is.” Edward picks up his book and resumes his reading about the transformation of atoms.

 

There’s a knock at the door, and Ed’s heart starts singing a choir’s song for one Ling Yao. _He wouldn’t be back so soon, would he?_

 

“Come in,” Al says, not looking up from his book. He looks at his brother with a look that says _well you weren’t going to do it, idiot._ "He's decent, enough." 

 

Ling’s cheery face peeks in through the door, and Ed feels his heart run through an entire Olympic floor routine within the span of 3 seconds.

 

“Hi!”, he says, waving as he opens to door wide enough to wheel in a wheelchair.  “It’s me, again!” A tray of food and a clipboard are balanced in the chair’s seat. “Dr. Morales sent me up here to get you! There’s a Ms. Rockbell in the visitor area for you, and your doctor told me to get you some food that won’t interfere with your medication.” He sets the tray of food onto Ed’s lap and puts the chair in the corner near Darius and Heinkel’s flowers.

 

Ed and Al share a look over Ling’s head, code for _Winry’s fucking crazy and we should be scared of her._

 

“These from your friends that came yesterday?”, Ling asks, twirling a daisy in between his fingers. “They’re all very beautiful.”

 

Edward’s eyes narrow and a bitter taste comes into his mouth as he remembers their conversation from yesterday. “You can just throw those out.” He averts his eyes down to the tray on his lap, holding a bowl of broth, a roll of bread, and a glass of juice. “They’re just a waste of space at this point.”

 

“That’s a shame.” Ling tucks the daisy back into its vase and retrieves his clipboard from Ed’s wheelchair. “Alright, eat up while I get you checked out!” He flits about the room. scribbling down blood pressures and brain activity, mumbling to himself all the way. Ed goes through the soup and bread roll faster than he hoped, but he was starving. Two white pills sit next to the juice and Ed eyes them with caution. Ling catches his staring and chuckles,

 

“Those are just prescription strength ibuprofen, don’t worry. Wouldn’t want you in pain while you get used to your new chair.” He scribbles Ed’s new morphine dosage on a pale blue sticky note and adds it to the small, robin’s egg blue army crawling across his statistic sheets. He sets the clipboard down and claps his hands together, nearly scaring Ed out of his bandages.

 

“Alright, moving time!”, he says excitedly. Ed takes the pills with the juice, taking an extra gulp to help them go down. He’s already dreading leaving the safe, protected comfort of the hospital sheets, out in the open where everyone can stare at how broken he is.

 

Al looks at him with eyes that understand everything swirling inside him. “I’ll be here the whole time, Ed.”,he says quietly.

Ling positions the chair by his bedside so all Edward has to do is lift himself up and slide into it perfectly. He helps Ed off the bed with a gentle hand at both of his elbows, practically scooping him out of his nest of sheets and pillows.

 

“Comfy?”, Ling asks, raven hair framing his face as he looks down at Ed.  

 

Ed shifts around in the chair, his cheeks slightly pink. “Comfy as I’ll ever get, I guess.” It feels weird, only having weight on either the upper or lower half of his body. The bandages on the stump of his leg are fresh, only a few blood spots blot the white cloth. Ed almost asks for a blanket, to cover up the mess that his lower half has become, but decides against it. He’ll have to get used to seeing one less leg for a while, so he might as well start now.

 

“That’s good.” Ling stands behind the chair, wheeling Ed out of the still open door and into the hallways, Alphonse walking right behind them.

 

The hospital isn’t as bad Ed thinks it would be since he’s in the intensive care unit. There’s barely anyone in there, save for the doctors milling about and trading reports. No one pays any mind to the bandaged stumps of his arms and legs, and they move out the way for his IV pole. They do have to go through general care though, to get to the visitor’s section, and that’s where the nosy old ladies and unfiltered children sit. They look at his wounds and whisper, probably about how unfortunate he is to be here at such a young age, the same thing they said when he came in to get his arm amputated.

 

He pays them no mind and flashes a grin to the kids ‘ooh’ing over how cool he looks.

 

Ed isn’t ready to see Winry, isn’t ready for her to have to put him back together again, and he starts sweating as Ling turns his chair around the corner. Alphonse puts a comforting hand on his shoulder, and he breathes easy. Winry looks horrible when they first see her, her hair a rumpled mess and her clothes having the telltale ramen stains of an all-nighter.

 

“Winry!”, Al yells, waking her and nearly everyone in the room out of the daze. “Over here!”

 

She rubs her eyes and looks at Al, the case holding Edward’s leg clutched in her arms. Another bag is slung across her front, making it impossible for her to bend over “Al, shut up.”, she groans. “I love you, but shut up.” Winry takes a look at Ed, sheepishly waving at her, and nearly breaks into tears.

 

“So, it’s true.”, she says, getting out of her chair. “The doctor said you’d lost your leg, but I wasn’t expecting it to be that much.” She looks at the bandages wrapped around his thigh, then scrubs at her eyes. “I can’t be constantly taking care of you, you know that!” Winry moves the second bag across her shoulder, rubbing at the indent where the strap had been. ‘God, you’re such a dumbass.” She ruffles Ed’s hair, a weary smile on her face. “Well, let’s go get your limbs on, dumbass!”

 

Ed and Al wait for her while she goes back to her chair to retrieve a bag from out under it, then they all walk over to the physical therapy hall.

 

Ling parks his wheelchair next to a chair so Edward can slide out and let Winry put his leg and arm on.

 

“Granny and I worked on these separately.”, she says, placing the rubber cover for each prosthetic over his arm and leg. “That’s the only reason why you have them both, so we’d both appreciate it if you’d didn’t break them as easily as you did the other ones.” Alphonse helps her attach the actual prosthetic to Ed’s leg first, slipping the metal leg over the rubber cover with a practiced ease. Ed feels the suction of the nerve connectors against his leg and he shudders with memories of his first prosthetic. He probably still has scars from the crude cut of the metal plating against his skin.

 

“You’ll tell me when you connect the nerves, right?’, he says nervously. Winry shrugs and moves onto his arm.

 

“I might.”, she says. Winry braces her hand against the chair and tightens Ed’s arm until she hears the nerve connectors snap into place and whir with power.  “Or I might just keep going.” Ed glares at his mechanic as she cleans out the inner workings of his leg.

 

Winry nods to Alphonse, and he looks at Ed. “Nerves.”, he says simply, giving Ed half a second to grip onto the edge of the chair before Winry tightens his arm as well. She rocks back on her knees, tapping his new leg with her wrench and relishing in the hollow ring of metal on metal.

 

“It sounds alright.” Winry gets up and brushes her knees off, smiling at Ed. “Why don’t you get up and see how they feel?”

 

Ed grins wider than he ever has since Ling’s seen him in the hospital.

 

He stands up on shaky legs and almost pitches forward into the hardwood, both Winry and Al nearly falling over to catch him. Ed steadies himself though, grinning on wobbly legs.

 

“Winry!”, he turns to her, beaming like the sun. “God, these handle like a dream!” Edward flexes his new arm, twisting it this way and that, watching it catch in the fluorescent lighting of the room

 

Winry blushes as she packs up her tools and such. “Yeah, well, you’re lucky you know the best mechanic this side of the Xerxian desert. Otherwise, I’d be swindling you and Al out of your socks.” She closes her tool bag and swings it over her shoulder. “I’m done here, and I’d love to stay and chat with your boyfriend.” Ed’s blush rivals that of a ripe heirloom tomato. “But, I promised Paninya a coffee in like, 20 minutes, so I gotta go.” Winry gives both boys a kiss on the cheek, big, wet, and totally uncalled for.

 

Al stands from his chair, back cracks as he groans. “I should be going to. I promised Charlie I’d be home in time to feed our cats, Ida and CT, before our anniversary date.” He shakes Ling’s hand as he follows Winry out the door. “Alphonse Elric, sorry for not introducing myself beforehand. Thanks for taking care of my idiot big brother, I really appreciate it.”

 

Ed sticks his tongue out at his little brother, but gives him a fond smile.

 

“It’s been my pleasure.”, Ling says warmly. “He’s quite the patient, especially when he’s tired.” He gives Edward a sly wink, and never had Ed been so sure of his bisexuality until now. “I’ll take good care of him!”, he says, waving to Al as he walks out the door.

 

“So, you do remember that conversation!”, Ed says, turning on Ling in an instant.

 

Ling smirks. “Of course I do, especially if I can get a free coffee out of it. Now, let’s get started on working those muscles. I know you’re used to that arm of yours, but you’re off balance on that shiny leg of yours.”

 

He leads Ed over to a pair of bars in the middle of the room, stretching from one side to another. Edward looks at the stretching distance to the end, and suddenly, his leg turns to lead.

 

“I can’t do it.”, he blurts. “My leg, it hurts too much, I can’t.” His hands shake from where they grip the bars, and he feels sweat pour down his neck. Now that Alphonse and Winry are gone, he feels like he’s drowning. His leg burns with the pain of being upright, and Edward falls straight on his ass. His whole body shakes with pain and fright, and he wants to cry. His leg burns like the heat of the explosion is trapped in between his flesh. His world is slanted, fallen off his axis. Ed doesn’t think he has the strength to lift back onto its pedestal, much less get it to turn again.

 

Suddenly, it’s like Ling becomes an entirely different person. He drops his sunny demeanor and drops down next to Edward. “Hey, you don’t have to do this now. We can spend a few hours in the gym just working on your arm, we can do some stretches, it’s fine. But, I don’t want to hear you say you can’t do anything ever again in your life. You’ve done so many things in this world, Ed. This can’t be the only hurdle you won’t jump.”

 

Ed laughs, weak and shaky. “You give this pep talk to all your patients?”

 

Ling laughs, and it sounds like starlight in a bottle. “Nope, just the cute ones.” He helps Edward up and they hobble back to his wheelchair together. Ed sighs, thankful for the relief of not having to stand. Ling wheels him over into the gym, and they start from there instead. 

 

Physical therapy goes great. Ed decides he likes the feeling of Ling’s hands on his arms, guiding his bicep with the movement of the weights, catching him when he stumbles on the bars, but the feeling of Ling’s hands in his when he gets discharged is even better. 

 

3 months of recovery goes fine, especially when you have a boyfriend to make it worth the while. 

 

* * *

 

“You glad you finally got that coffee, huh?”, Ed jokes, pointing his too sugary frappuccino in Ling’s direction. “All this time I thought you just wanted to be my nurse because I looked cute.”

 

Ling smiles despite the breakfast croissant stuffed in his mouth. “The looks were an added bonus. I’m only dating you to reap my mochaccino benefits.” He swallows and gives his boyfriend a cheeky grin. 

 

Edward laughs and nudges Ling’s sandaled foot with his, the clunkiness of his army boots a great contrast to Ling’s lace-ups. “And to think, I spend my small teacher’s assistant salary feeding your dumbass.”

 

Smiling, Ling bites down on his green straw and takes a sip of caffeinated goodness. “I thanks the gods for giving me such a generous sugar daddy every day.”

 

Ed chokes on his drink, metal hand clanking against the table as he slams his plastic cup down. “Don’t even _joke_ about that, oh my god. Do you know how many middle schoolers ask me why I wear Gucci slides with my old military sweats? If anything, they think _I’m_ the sugar baby! Nevermind my asshole scientist of a father, your dad is a fucking _CEO,_ Ling. He could buy me!”

 

Ling laughs so uproariously that the entire coffee shop glares daggers at them. Ed palms a few tens out of his wallet and tucks them under the napkin dispenser. These waiters are gonna need all the tips they can get, especially with all the stories Ed has.

 

He and Ling link hands under the table, and the world feels a little more upright.

 

“Y’know, I never did get your number.”, Ling teases. “Shame though, because I’ll never get to meet that cute blond who offered it to me.”

 

"Of course you still remember that!" Ed laughs, sticking his tongue out at Ling. "What part of ''I was in a morphine-induced state of unwellness'' don't you understand?"

Ling gives him a look, which he only does when he knows Edward is flustered. "I don't know about morphine-induced, because you seemed really fine texting your brother after they took you off it. How come I never heard any crazed declarations of love for him?"

 

 “Oh, shut up. You’ve taken over my Snapchat enough times that I’m surprised you haven’t started texting yourself.” Ed bites down on a pastry. "And, one, he's my brother so he  _knows_ I love him. We had just met, Mr. Tall-Dark-and Sunshiney."

 

They laugh some more, order more food to satisfy Ling’s never-ending appetite, and Ed has the best time of his life outside of the Briggs National Military Academy in months.

 

Yeah, his world is spinning again. And this time, he’s superglued it down, so fuck the world if it manages to fall. 

 

 

"I never did get to ask," Ling slurps on his drink. "Alphonse said he had a cat named CT a while back? Is it a nickname for something?"

 

Ed stares at Ling, a laugh bubbling in his throat. "Chicken Tender.", he says quickly. "The cat is hairless, and her name is Chicken Tender."

 

Because all Edward has ever needed sits right here in front of his, spewing mocha frap out of his nose like he's dying. Yet through all of it, Ed still manages to fall a little bit more in love with him every day. 

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY EDLING WEEK! this is the most fic yall are ever gonna get from me im gonna write for seven days straight then astral project and beat up my physical form in the astral plane GOODNIGHT
> 
> edit: the only reason this got done is bc my sister and i were up until three in the morning for voltron season 6, so if you have anyone to thank, it's dreamworks and their continuous queerbaiting that my dumbass keeps falling for


End file.
